The Case of the Registered Letter | Page 7

say about it himself?"
"He seems quite hopeless. He says that he is innocent--oh, I know he
is--but everything is against him. He acknowledges that it was he who
was in Mr. Siders' room the evening before the murder. He went there
because Siders wrote him to come. He says he left early, and that John
acted queerly. He knows they will not believe his story. This worry and
anxiety will kill him. He has a serious heart trouble; he has suffered
from it for years, and it has been growing steadily worse. I dare not
think what this excitement may do for him." Miss Graumann broke
down again and sobbed aloud. Muller laid his hands soothingly on the
little old fingers that gripped the arm of the chair.
"Did your nephew send you here to ask for help?" he inquired very
gently.
"Oh, no" The old lady looked up at him through her tears. "No, he
would not have done that. I'm afraid that he'll be angry if he knows that
I have come. He seemed so hopeless, so dazed. I just couldn't stand it.
It seemed to me that the police in G-- were taking things for granted,
and just sitting there waiting for an innocent man to confess, instead of
looking for the real murderer, who may be gone, the Lord knows where,
by now!" Miss Graumann's faded cheeks flushed a delicate pink, and
she straightened up in her chair again, while her eyes snapped defiance
through the tears that hung on their lashes.
A faint gleam twinkled up in Muller's eyes, and he did not look at his
chief. Doctor von Riedau's own face glowed in a slowly mounting flush,
and his eyes drooped in a moment of conscious embarrassment at some
recollection, the sting of which was evidently made worse by Muller's
presence. But Commissioner von Riedau had brains enough to
acknowledge his mistakes and to learn from them. He looked across the
desk at Miss Graumann. "You are right, Madam, the police have made
that mistake more than once. And a man with a clear record deserves
the benefit of the doubt. We will take up this case. Detective Muller
will be put in charge of it. And that means, Madam, that we are giving

you the very best assistance the Imperial Police Force affords."
Miss Babette Graumann did not attempt to speak. In a wave of emotion
she stretched out both little hands to the detective and clasped his
warmly. "Oh, thank you," she said at last. "I thank you. He's just like
my own boy to me; he's all the child I ever had, you know."
"But there are difficulties in the way," continued the commissioner in a
business-like tone. "The local authorities in G-- have not asked for our
assistance, and we are taking up the case over their heads, as it were. I
shall have to leave that to Muller's diplomacy. He will come to G-- and
have an interview with your nephew. Then he will have to use his own
judgment as to the next steps, and as to how far he may go in
opposition to what has been done by the police there."
"And then I may go back home?" asked Miss Graumann. "Go home
with the assurance that you will help my poor boy?"
"Yes, you may depend on us, Madam. Is there anything we can do for
you here? Are you alone in the city?"
"No, thank you. There is a friend here who will take care of me. She
will put me on the afternoon express back to G--."
"It is very likely that I will take that train myself," said Muller. "If there
is anything that you need on the journey, call on me."
"Oh, thank you, I will indeed! Thank you both, gentlemen. And now
good-bye, and God bless you!"
The commissioner bowed and Muller held the door open for Miss
Graumann to pass out. There was silence in the room, as the two men
looked after the quaint little figure slowly descending the stairs.
"A brave little woman," murmured the commissioner.
"It is not only the mother in the flesh who knows what a mother's love
is," added Muller.

Next morning Joseph Muller stood in the cell of the prison in G--
confronting Albert Graumann, accused of the murder of John Siders.
The detective had just come from a rather difficult interview with
Commissioner Lange. But the latter, though not a brilliant man, was at
least good-natured. He acknowledged the right of the accused and his
family to ask for outside assistance, and agreed with Muller that it was
better to have some one in the official service brought in, rather than a
private detective whose work, in its eventual results, might bring